


Hit Send

by kurokonekokilled



Series: Terrible Teaching Etiquette [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: College AU, Complete, Ichigo curses a lot in his diary, Ichigo needs a nap, M/M, Teacher Kisuke, student ichigo, this is terribly written tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokonekokilled/pseuds/kurokonekokilled
Summary: College AU. Ichigo sends Urahara-sensei the wrong damn file. Oops.





	Hit Send

“Kurosaki-san, stay for a moment, please,” the usual jovial tone rang out over the din of the emptying classroom.

He shot Ishida a look, rolling his eyes, and waved goodbye as he made his way down the steps instead of towards the door.

He’d never been asked to stay behind after Urahara-sensei’s class; he was one of the top students. But his recent essay had been lackluster and he knew it. Taking so many classes this semester really hadn’t ended up being the best idea, but he was stuck now.

So he trudged down the steps towards his sensei’s desk, ignoring the weight of his eyelids screaming at him to curl up on the floor and go to sleep right then. The man was wearing his usual jinbei and matching haori, that atrocious striped hat perched over blond locks.

Ichigo supposed you could get away with wearing just about anything you wanted when you were a genius. And Urahara seemed to want to see just how far he could go with his antics - and his manner of dress - before being called out on his behavior. Not that it would slow him down in the slightest.

“Urahara-sensei?” he questioned, stopping in front of the desk.

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun, thank you for staying behind, I hope this won’t take too long,” Urahara responded breezily, that ever-present grin widening just slightly.

Ichigo just nodded his head respectfully, scratching the back of his neck. He hoped it wouldn’t either, he just wanted to find someplace relatively soft and pass the fuck out.

“You see, I wanted to discuss your essay submission,” his sensei said, his voice lilting playfully, like always. “Please, take a seat.”

Urahara gestured at the plastic chair that was sitting behind his desk, scooting over to give Ichigo a bit more room. Ichigo hesitated for a second, wondering why he wasn’t being asked to sit on the opposite side of the desk, but he just shrugged, dropping his bag and sinking into the uncomfortable plastic.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t up to par, Urahara-sensei,” he mumbled, fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his pants. “I took on too many courses and I’m paying the price for it.”

Ichigo laughed lightly, trying to make his joke sound more like he was poking fun at himself and less like he was about to collapse. Urahara just looked at him with that little smile, his eyes shadowed under his hat.

“I’m sure it would have been fine, had it been what you sent me. You’ve always been exceptionally bright.”

Ichigo took a moment to bask in the praise before he realized what his sensei had said. He’d sent the wrong file?

“What you sent me was most definitely not anything to do with cellular structuring,” his sensei drawled, turning to pull up Ichigo’s email and clicking on the file. “But it was certainly quite interesting.”

Ichigo’s brows knit in confusion as he leaned forward slightly. Urahara had dropped the constant smile and was now smirking at him, very slightly, leaning back in his chair to allow his student to peer at the computer screen. The second Ichigo caught sight of the first sentence, his face flamed, and every thought he’d had went flying out of his head.

_07/January/2018_

_What a shocker boys and girls: another fucking dream. I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to look Urahara-sensei in the eyes if this shit keeps up._

_I can barely even sit in his class anymore without getting a fucking hard-on. He turns his back and all I can think about is him pinning me to the chalkboard and he sits on the edge of his desk and I can practically see myself on my knees between his legs. And yeah, maybe I should stop jacking off thinking about him fucking my face, but come onnnnn like I've seen him in the gym, I know he's toned as hell. And his fucking shoulders, shit, man. I wanna hook my fucking legs over them while he fucks me. Really, I just wanna knock that stupid fucking hat off so I can see his face when I suck him off._

_Aaand great, now I’m hard. I should’ve known thinking about this more wasn’t gonna fucking help. Thanks for the shitty advice, Nel._

_Well, guess I’m gonna go jack off and try not to cum in my pants next time I see him._

No.

Didn't happen.

There’s no way in hell actually he sent his sensei that.

The one fucking time bothered to write his thoughts down like Nel kept telling him to do, and of course it’d bite him in the ass.

Past his mortification, he could still see Urahara sitting there, his hands resting on the armrests of his chair, just _staring_.

Because he’d sent his sensei a fucking diary entry about wanting to fuck him.

Ichigo gave up trying to control his reaction and just groaned helplessly, banging his forehead on the desk. He missed Urahara’s little laugh at his antics.

What the fuck was he going to do? Apologize? Throw himself off the roof? Go home and jack off til he was raw?

Groaning again, he realized that his best bet was to apologize. Apologize profusely, take a zero for the assignment, delete the document, drop the class, and never look his sensei in the eye ever again. Maybe move to Russia and change his name.

So he took a deep breath, swallowed harshly, and stood, pushing his chair back. He huffed another breath, and then dropped roughly into seiza at the man’s feet. A distracted laugh almost left his mouth as he took note of those stupid fucking geta the man always wore.

He placed his hands in front of him and lowered his body to the ground in a bow.

“I deeply apologize, Urahara-sensei, that was incredibly inappropriate of me, even if it was an honest mistake, and I’ll make up the work, or take a zero for the assignment. I’ll drop your class if you want, and you’ll never have to see me again. I’m very sorry, sensei.”

His cheeks were flaming, his heart thundering, and he had no idea what the hell to do next. Probably get up and get the hell out of there before his sensei beat his ass. But all thoughts fled him again as he heard a low chuckle flutter down from above him. Anger flashed through him momentarily before his raging embarrassment beat it back down.

“Well, I don’t suppose this is the way you were imagining being on your knees in front of me, Kurosaki-kun.”

That voice was deep, husky, not the airy tone he’d grown so used to. Ichigo’s head snapped up, his breath catching when he saw Urahara place his hat on the desk before looking back down at his student.

“I believe you wanted that off?”

Ichigo’s mouth was dry, his arms shaking. Those gunmetal eyes were boring down into him, darkened and half lidded.

“W-what?” he just barely managed to choke out, his brain short circuiting.

Urahara laughed again, low and throaty, and Ichigo flinched when he felt a finger crook under his chin, holding him in place, while his sensei scooted his chair closer, encasing him between strong thighs. A rough thumb brushed over his lips, and his mouth opened instinctively.

“You said you wanted,” he paused to read directly off the screen, “‘to knock that stupid fucking hat off so I can see his face while I suck him off.’ Unless I’m reading that wrong?”

Grey eyes were staring straight into him, and he almost wanted to say yes, yes he was reading that wrong, this was all a misunderstanding, he’d done nothing wrong. But all that came out of him at hearing those words fall from his sensei’s tongue was a lewd moan.

He parted his lips further, taking the tip of Urahara’s thumb into his mouth, his tongue flicking over salty skin as his eyes fluttered closed. He let the older man push further into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and failing to hold back a broken whine at the taste. Brown eyes quickly slit back open as he heard his sensei begin speaking again.

“As pleasant as that feels, I don’t think that’s how you suck someone off, Kurosaki-kun.”

His voice was strained and breathy, but there was a hint of that normal playfulness permeating his tone. Ichigo’s cheeks flared, and he pulled back off Urahara’s thumb.

“Ichigo,” he said, his voice already deep and almost cracking with want. “Call me Ichigo.”

A wicked smirk spread over Urahara’s lips as he looked down at the redhead kneeling between his thighs. His hand threaded through orange locks and pulled until Ichigo was straining up towards him. The shudder that went through the boy when his lips brushed the shell of his ear was absolutely delicious.

“You’ve got some work to make up, _Ichigo_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what other pairings you'd like me to do in this series!


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